The first few days after Rashida had spanked me were very surreal for me. I had a whole range of conflicting feelings going through me, and I didn't know what to make of them. The beating had caught me by total surprise – one minute I was busy stroking my penis and the next minute I was over her knees getting a thrashing like a naughty little boy. I didn't expect my maid servant of so many years to suddenly decide she had the authority to discipline me.
The overwhelming emotion was a profound sense of shame and embarrassment. I really wanted the earth to open up so I could disappear. Each time my mind played back that incident I would find myself blushing intensely. The moment when Rashida had caught me masturbating in my room. Or how quickly she had taken command of the situation by sending off our other maid, Rubina, on an errand so she could have me completely to herself. How I willingly put myself at her complete mercy.
A warm sense of humiliation would wash over me every time when I thought about how I had to kiss her feet, and how she then grabbed and twisted my ears. If you are an Indian kid, you know how demeaning it is to have your ears twisted by an older, matronly lady. And how I humbly complied with all of her orders, such as being forbidden from calling her by name, as I usually did, instead being commanded to refer to her using the respectful term "
bua
".
Following the incident, I could not look Rashida in the eye out of shame. During the next few days, whenever she was in the same room as me, I kept my eyes cast down, unable to meet her gaze, looking for any excuse to leave. I was embarrassed to come into her presence! Every time she was around, I felt that she was silently mocking me with her smile. There was a knowing look on her face whenever she would see me.
I could not forget how Rashida, my normally docile, obedient, timid, soft spoken maid servant, had slapped me continuously while ordering me to thank her for each slap. And how I meekly obeyed that command, and thanked her each time she slapped me, and asked for another slap! Me, her employer's son!
To add to my sense of humiliation, Rashida had then stripped me completely naked. I felt powerless to stop her as she removed every article of my clothing, one by one, until I was completely naked, and vulnerable, in her presence. Each time I recalled how I had completely submitted to her, leaving her in a position of power over me, I felt a huge feeling of embarrassment. Like I was nothing. Or perhaps the reason I could not meet her gaze was because I had completely lost any respect she had for me. I was someone she used to lovingly call "
baba
" – now I was a boy she had placed on her lap for a severe paddling.
That had been over three weeks ago.
I could also not ignore another massive emotion that surfaced in addition to my acute sense of shame.
Arousal. Yes, arousal.
Every time I thought about how my chubby maid servant had calmly placed me over her knees, across her lap and had struck me, again and again, with a ruler, I also felt myself getting stimulated. And when I recalled how, to add to my chastening, Rashida made me count and thank her for each beating, it would leave me quite hard. Every time I thought about how she had tanned my bottom, I felt a deep urge to cum.
So there it was. I was deeply ashamed and extremely embarrassed that my maid servant – for so long the object of my fantasies – had punished me like an errant school boy. One would think, given my class and my background that I was superior to her, yet she had caught me by the ear and put me firmly in my place!
Each time I thought about how I had been punished by her, when I could have just broken free, yet how I found myself unable to do so, I felt I had already accepted the situation. For that brief time, I knew I couldn't do anything but obey her like a slave. In this huge house where my father, mother and the two maids lived, along with me, Rashida and I shared a naughty secret. A secret that between ourselves, for that one day she had stopped being my maid and I had become her slave.
And that fact was strangely also highly stimulating for me. So stimulating, in fact, that I was in a constant state of arousal.
After a few days, particularly with my parents around the house, I tried to forget my humiliating beating at her hands. It was just a one-time thing, I tried to convince myself. I was horny, and my maid had taken advantage of me. It won't happen again, I promised to myself. So almost a month later, one day as we were all sitting down to lunch, I deliberately called Rashida by her name, which she had warned me not to do when she had spanked me. During this last month, I had barely talked to her.
"Rashida! Can I get some water?" I asked, raising my glass.
"Yes, of course,
baba
!" She ran to fill my glass, just like any good Indian maid would.
And so it began. For the next month or so, Rashida behaved just like a normal maid, even when my parents were away. I deliberately called her by her name, with no blowback. She would make the bed, dust and clean the rooms, prepare the food and do the menial tasks a maid should. She also left me alone. I had almost forgotten that the same plump, buxom maid who was sweeping my floor had taken me across her lap and had given me a sound thrashing almost two months ago.
School was progressing well. It was my final year, so I was busy with college prep exams as well as the cricket team. I didn't have to worry; I already had an acceptance letter from a prestigious university – that's what coming from a rich and politically connected family does for you in India.
In the afternoons, when I would be returning home from school, my father would still be at his business while my mother, who ran an important NGO, would be in her office. It was just Rashida, me and our other maid Rubina in the house for a few hours, every day.
Rubina was just a young skinny girl; similar to me in age (no one knew exactly, although I did hear she was younger to me by a few months); her only redeeming feature was her big butts. Rashida, however, was chubby, and filled out quite nicely. She had a pretty face, with fat cheeks that begged to be squeezed and kissed. Her lips were thick and pouty, and her breasts always seemed to struggle against a blouse that was one size too small. Rashida always wore her
sari
in such a way that her waist and navel were always exposed. As common with ladies her age, her hair was usually tied up in a bun at the top of her head, but sometimes Rashida kept it loose and flowing. I loved her big breasts. They were always bouncing about in her blouse as she mopped the floor or dusted the furniture. And her buttocks! Big, bootylicious, bodacious, plump juicy buttocks!
Every afternoon, with no one but me around, Rashida would retire to the servants' quarters to her room for a short nap, while Rubina would take the time to take a leisurely bath. Today, feeling restless, I was walking around the house. While tiptoeing over to the servants' quarters for a moment, I noticed that their bathroom door had a large crack on it, and there was a big space between the door and the frame.
I could hear Rubina inside. Placing myself carefully against the door, I peered in. Given that it was the servants' bathroom, there wasn't any shower to speak of – it was an enclosed bath area. Rubina had filled a bucket, and she now dipped a mug, and then poured the water over herself.
Oh, I never realized how sensuous a woman looked when wet! Rubina may be scrawny, but she was a nubile young woman. Her eyes were shut, and the water gently trickled across her face, over her perky breasts, disappearing down her waist. I could see she didn't shave, and her pubic area was all lathered up. I slowly started to rub my groin, feeling the bump through the trousers.
As I continued to watch, Rubina softly placed one hand between her legs. Leisurely, she started to move her hands to and fro.
"Mmmmm...." She started to hum. I kept rubbing myself, my cock getting harder and harder at the sight before me.
I hadn't even heard Rashida walk up, or even seen her standing behind me. Suddenly, I felt the most violent tug on my ear.
There I was, in the maid servants' quarters, standing just outside their washroom, as Rashida held my earlobe in a firm grim between her thumb and her forefinger.
"What is this?" She hissed angrily, pinching my ear with all her might. "A peeping tom!"
"
Bua
! I ..." I managed to croak, "I ..."
I could still hear the splashes of water as our other maid Rubina was taking a bath inside, unaware of what was transpiring outside the bathroom doors.
Rashida let go of my ear and ordered me to turn and face her. I turned and cast my eyes down in shame, aware that my servant had just caught and twisted my ear. Again.
"Your little
nunu
(penis) is hard." Rashida told me. I couldn't deny it – there was a bump in my jeans. Rashida laid a hand and felt my hardness.
"You were watching Rubina take a bath."
It was a statement, not a question. I could only nod helplessly. Rashida raised her hand.
SLAP!
I blushed furiously as I realized I had just been slapped by our lowly domestic help of many years.
SLAP!
"I am sorry,
bua
." I apologized. "I shouldn't have been peeping in."
"You shouldn't be here, Tarek." Rashida told me, raising her hand again.
SLAP!
"These are the servants' quarters,
baba
." Rashida told me.
SLAP!
"We deserve the right to take a bath without you trying to catch a peek, Tarek."
SLAP!
"Yes,
bua
. Absolutely,
bua
. It is my mistake,
bua
. Please forgive me,
bua
."
SLAP!
"When I punished you last time, baba, I honestly thought you would mend your ways."
SLAP!
"But here you are, getting punished again."
SLAP!
"I know,
bua
. I am so sorry,
bua
. Please forgive me,
bua
."
Rashida continued to slap me. Her right would strike my left cheek and move across, before she would bring me back and hit the other cheek with the back of the same hand. She continued to slap me, again and again, all while berating me.
I was now aware that I wasn't hearing any sounds from the bathroom. Did Rubina finish her bath? Why wasn't she coming out? Could she hear Rashida scold – and slap – her master right outside the bathroom door?
"Tarek Zia, let's go to my room!"
I knew I was in trouble as Rashida took my full name. She also raised her hand and caught hold of my ear again, and turned and started to walk towards her room, dragging me along by the ear.
"You will find out exactly just how badly you are in trouble,
baba
."
"Yes,
